Long Lives
by Ripper101
Summary: Buffy takes Giles shopping, Giles lets go a little and finds out with the help of dear old Ethan Rayne that the best way to prolong a Slayer's short life is to let her rebel in a demon nightclub.


"Buffy, why are we going shopping?" Giles hissed under his breath, trotting anxiously on the heels of his determined Slayer.  
  
"Because we're both free," she said, "And there's no more hellmouth. And we've been through more than enough of those 'must save the world again' deals to indulge in a little retail therapy."  
  
"For you maybe," he groused darkly.  
  
"What was that?" she asked quickly, rounding on him.  
  
"Oh, nothing," he answered hurriedly, biting his tongue.  
  
She gave him a suspicious nod and sailed on ahead. He followed her.  
  
"Well, what do you think?" she asked for the hundredth time as she pulled another blue top out of the rack. "Does this color go with my eyes? Think it's too skanky? Too skanky, right? Right! Move on, then!"  
  
"Don't you have enough blue?" He ground out, ignoring the amused eyes of the salesperson. "And do you really need me here, Buffy?"  
  
"Oh, definitely!" she insisted, looking up at him with emphatic blue-gray eyes. "Besides, you promised!"  
  
"I never did!" he gasped, shocked at the outright lie. "I suggested that *you* go shopping. I never said I'd come with you. You just dragged me here under false pretenses!"  
  
"Fine! Go, then," she snapped, pouty lips wobbling. "I thought we could have a nice time out and get some decent clothes but no! You have to go all English on me!"  
  
"Buffy, we're *in* England," he warned. Then he gave up. "Alright, alright! Go try them on. I'll wait here for you."  
  
An excited squeal and an, "Oh Giles, you're the best" and Buffy couldn't be seen for the trail of dust.  
  
The salesgirl giggled behind him. "Real handful, is she? She's very pretty, sir."  
  
"What?" he asked, confused. "Oh. Yes, she is," he agreed.  
  
"Has she been in England long, sir?" the girl asked delicately, running her eyes over this male specimen at complete odds with the feminine softness of the store.  
  
"Not exactly," he smiled politely, "A month at most."  
  
"Oh, well that's nice," the girl gushed. "This is none of my business, sir, but if I may- there's a wonderful restaurant a few blocks from here and that dress she's trying on will be the perfect thing, should you wish to take her there."  
  
"Oh," Giles said, more confused, "Thank you. Perhaps one evening-"  
  
"It is, of course, very romantic. And most discreet! Flowers and candlelight and soft music- the works, really."  
  
"What? Oh dear, Buffy and I are-are not all l-like that," Giles stammered, "She's, well, she's more of a young friend. Yes, the daughter of a friend!"  
  
"Giles, I have to pick out lingerie next," Buffy chirped, bouncing over to him and handing him the loaded bags with a coquettish smile.  
  
Giles grit his teeth and hurriedly exited the store. "Buffy, must you inform the world what item of clothing you need to find next?" he growled.  
  
"Giles, if I didn't know better, I'd say you are embarrassed," Buffy teased, "And what's so wrong about lingerie? Every woman wears it. Your mother probably wore it."  
  
"Oh God! Not that!" he groaned, covering his eyes, "I will leave right this minute if you start with argument and so I warn you! And do you really need me for **that**?"  
  
"Well actually, I *was* hoping you could come with me," she said hesitantly. Then, because of the look on his face, "Not that you need to or anything. It's just that I'd really like a guy's perspective."  
  
"Excuse me?" he asked, brow furrowed.  
  
She sighed and played with her nails while explaining. "It's stupid, really. Now that Sunnydale is gone and I'm in England, I wanted to- to start over. Maybe go out a bit more, you know; things like that. And if I *were* to meet a new guy, well, I need the proper clothes for it. You don't mind too much, do you? There's no one else I can ask, really."  
  
A quick peep and he melted, grudgingly. "I guess I have no choice. But you will not parade for me! Understand?"  
  
And she nodded vigorously, pulling him into the next expensive store. "What about this one?" she asked excitedly, picking out a lacy wine red set edged with ribbons. "It's pretty!"  
  
"That is nice; if you want to look like you need it for work! Buffy, why the flamboyance? Pick something nice and simple," he suggested.  
  
She pulled a face and sulked. "You'll probably ask me to wear white cottons, next!"  
  
"Actually, white is considered attractive by most men," Giles informed her wickedly, "And there are things you can do in cottons that lace or silk just can't manage."  
  
"Giles," Buffy yelped, shocked, "I do not want to know."  
  
"Oh, but *I* do. In fact, I'm most interested," came a female voice from behind a rack of teddies.  
  
A tall, slim woman stepped out and straight into the arms of Rupert Giles. "Rupert, darling, how good to see you again!"  
  
"Anna! Whatever you doing here? I thought you were in Germany," he laughed, hugging her. "Well, you're still as pretty as ever."  
  
"And you're just as silver-tongued!" she shot back, stepping away to look at him. "I just got here a year ago. And like your friend, I needed to start my life afresh. Which, as every woman knows requires new lingerie."  
  
Giles shuddered as Buffy giggled. "It's what I've tried to tell him. But he just never learns," the Slayer sighed. Then she brightened and darted, coming back with peach colored slips of silk with a discrete bow on them. "Ooo! Giles, how 'bout this?"  
  
"No," he said forcibly. He gazed wildly around for a second and then pounced on something close by. "Here! Try that!"  
  
Buffy looked at it in awe. "Black lace? Wow, Giles! I never knew you had it in you!"  
  
"It's classic, my dear. No man can ever forget black lingerie," Anna assured her. "As for me, I'm looking for something like this. Ripper, what do you think?"  
  
She held the wine colored set up to herself and smiled teasingly at him, gray eyes sparkling. Buffy walked off muttering about Watchers and their damned fatherly protective instincts to dress their Slayers like virgins.  
  
"So she's the Slayer?" Anna asked, surprised, "She doesn't seem much the type. I always hear about their ability to kill, not much about lingerie shopping with their Watchers."  
  
Giles shrugged with one shoulder, carrying the rest of the bags in the other hand. "I'll have you know we have just finished blouses. And I'm very much afraid it's shoes next."  
  
Anna laughed. "Retail therapy, hmmm? Well, I have to admit it is relaxing." A silence as she looked him over with a wicked grin. "So, when do you pick out your underwear?"  
  
He shot her a dirty look. "I have plenty of my own, thank you very much. And I am *not* taking Buffy on that! She was already emitting hints about buying me shirts. I'm scared enough as it is!"  
  
Anna laughed and put the wine red set back. "Well, I have to be off, Ripper. Here's my number; give me a call sometime."  
  
"It would be a pleasure, Anna. And how is George? Still very much in love?" he asked, noting the happy blush and twinkle at the mention of her husband. "Give him my regards."  
  
"Thank you. Have fun with your Slayer. She does seem like your type," Anna congratulated, darting away just as he was going to protest.  
  
"Damn," he swore softly, flushing under the ironic gaze of yet another curious salesgirl. Time was when he would have strutted for them. Now, he wondered exactly what they thought of a man his age selecting underwear for a girl so young.  
  
"It's beautiful," Buffy admitted, "But it costs too much. Maybe when I've got a job."  
  
And maybe Ripper still lived on after all, because he smirked at the salesgirl and turned back sympathetically to Buffy. "Let me," he said gracefully, taking it from her and paying for it at the counter. Buffy merely goggled at his back.  
  
"Rupert Giles, did you just buy me underwear?" she squeaked, as they walked out.  
  
His stride was back and she had to scuttle to keep up with his longer legs. "Yes, I did. Well, you obviously liked it. And we can't have you going around in cheap things, can we? Consider it a Watcher-Slayer present."  
  
"Somehow I don't think Wesley would ever have given me that," Buffy grinned, sliding her arm affectionately through his.  
  
Giles chuckled at the image in his head. "Actually, you'd be surprised. From what I've heard, Wesley not only has the gumption to do it, he'll even ask to see it on you before he pays for it."  
  
"God, I'd love to see that," Buffy gurgled, "He really has changed."  
  
"Well, yes. It is to be expected. Angel has that effect on most people," Giles reminded her, a little bitterly.  
  
"Play nice now," she warned. "Oh Giles! Can we go in there?"  
  
"A tattoo parlor? Are you absolutely insane?" he yelped, "You are not getting one of those!"  
  
"Why not?" she asked, injured, "*you* have one; and I already have Ethan's."  
  
"That's different! Besides which, I have more than one. And I wish I didn't," he said firmly, "You are not getting another one."  
  
"Well, if you have more than one I should get another one too," she argued. "In fact, this is me going in there and getting my own tattoo. You're a Watcher, right? Well, watch this!"  
  
And he cursed as she swept into the place with all the fluid grace her role afforded her. "Stubborn little brat," he grumbled, just before he followed her.  
  
"How much for that?" she demanded, prodding at the delicate barbed-wire design.  
  
"Depends where yer want it, miss," the man said carefully.  
  
She sent a cold glance in Giles' direction as he joined her. "Around my arm, of course! What do you think, Giles?" A cool enquiring look at him.  
  
He suddenly gave a very Ripper-like grin. "Try this one- I think you'll like it. Do you have a pen and some paper?" The man flicked him the necessary material. All in all, it only took his fifteen minutes to sketch out his idea properly. What he handed Buffy looked something like a cross between a swirl of mist and a female face. Huge eyes stared out at her, flame flickering in the pupils.  
  
"Dear Lord," she whispered, running her hands over it, "Where did you get this?"  
  
"It's from a seventeenth century painting of a siren. The mist represents her duplicity and her beauty is, of course, her allure. The fire in her eyes signifies danger and passion. Yet, if you notice, she has a softness of form that is delicate and ethereal. She reminds me of you, actually."  
  
"Watcher mine, this is beautiful! But won't it take ages? And what if he can't do it?" she asked worried. "Worse, what if he messes up?"  
  
"Well, the man I have in mind won't," Giles said, ushering her out, the sketch still clasped tight in her hands. "But I warn you, it will hurt; no matter where you get it."  
  
"Yeah. Me and self-inflicted pain- not very good! But I want this. By the way, what are yours?" she asked suddenly, looking piercingly at him.  
  
"Well, I have Eyghon's mark on my arm, as you know. And I, um, have another one on my back." He was squirming, a sure sign that he was embarrassed.  
  
"Giles, what is it?" she asked suspiciously, eyes wide. "Come on. You can tell me anything, you know. I tell *you* everything! Be fair."  
  
"Well, it's a leaping panther," he admitted. She stared at him in shock. "What?"  
  
"A- a panther?" she choked. "Here I was thinking it was something symbolic and magick-y and Watcher-ish and you go and tell me it's a simple panther? What's to be ashamed of?"  
  
"It is magick-y," he said, shifting uncomfortably, "I can control its visibility at will, which explains why no one really knows I have it. It was a sort of gang motif, if you must know; all of us had one. And it is symbolic. Ethan gave it to me. It's worked into my skin with his own magic."  
  
"How? And what does it look like? Can I see it?" Buffy asked, now really interested. Giles had never mentioned this one. And there was something special about this tattoo that had Giles hopping from one foot to the other, especially once he mentioned Ethan.  
  
"Well, you can't expect me to take off my shirt here, can you?" he snapped, "Besides, I am not some insect on show-and-tell. I don't think I want to show you this."  
  
"Be a sport, Giles," she teased. "I don't know many people with a tattoo, especially a magic one. And you seem very protective of it. I thought we agreed no more secrets."  
  
"I recall nothing of the kind," he said stiffly. Then he looked around him. "Why are we leaving? I thought you wanted shoes."  
  
"Shoes can wait. I think we need to get home," she said, walking him to the car. "I'm tired. Yep, just a small little woman after all."  
  
"Why are you torturing me?" he pleaded helplessly, driving them both home.  
  
"Well, if we're going to work together and live in the same house, we need to start sharing things. And your tattoo is one of them. Now you know what my underwear looks like, you won't be embarrassed if I accidentally leave some in the bathroom. And if I see your back, seeing you without your shirt won't embarrass me," she pointed out.  
  
"Why would it embarrass you to see me without my shirt?" he asked.  
  
"Well, you've never been undressed in any way in front of me, have you?" Buffy reminded him. "We've never even been to the beach together. What if I walk in on you in the shower or something?"  
  
"The door will be locked," he said definitely, trying not to think about that. Then he sighed. "But I see your point. Only, do we have to make a show out of it?"  
  
"You got this weird look on your face when you said Ethan Rayne's name, and I want to know why," she insisted.  
  
He colored in the most adorable way before gripping the steering wheel even tighter. Buffy also noticed that he seemed in no hurry to reach that desired destination. She giggled silently at him all the way to the house. "Home sweet home," she sighed, collapsing on the couch.  
  
"Excuse me," he muttered hurriedly, "I- I need to go check something."  
  
She looked in surprise at her edgy Watcher. She'd expected him to go all embarrassed and start stuttering, but this was pushing things. She waited a half hour for him to sidle into the room again. "You don't have to, you know," she said quietly, "I was only teasing you. If- if you don't feel like showing me, that's perfectly natural."  
  
He looked relieved. Then he sighed and started unbuttoning his shirt. "You're right. We have to start sharing things. And if you want a look, then by all means- it's actually rather pretty, I think. But you can judge for yourself."  
  
He pulled his shirt down over his arms, baring his upper body. This in itself was revelation indeed. The slim, muscular frame was doing interesting things to her stomach, along with that fuzzy chest hair. Funny, none of her boyfriends had had that. Angel was smooth, as was Spike. Riley shaved. And then Giles turned around.  
  
"Oh my!" she gasped. "Can I touch it?"  
  
"Well it won't bite you, you know," he said in amusement, craning his head around to see her reaction.  
  
"It's beautiful," she whispered tracing around it with one fingertip.  
  
The panther was drawn in full black, leaping in muscled grace across the smooth planes of skin, the single eye in profile glowing blood red. Even the teeth were delicately drawn in sharp treacherous points, left uncolored to stand stark against the skin.  
  
When she withdrew her hand, he turned around and pulled his shirt back on, a smug look on his face.  
  
"When you look like that, how come you never take your shirt off," she accused, glaring at him.  
  
He blushed bright red, hurriedly doing up his buttons.  
  
Her gaze softened under his furiously shy confusion. "Don't worry. I'm not going to jump you. But what say we go out tonight? We can take in patrol as well on the way."  
  
Giles tilted his head to one side as he thought about it. Then a slow grin. Buffy noticed Ripper gleaming out of those wicked green eyes. "I think I may know a place you would enjoy," he said demurely, "But you would need to wear black leather." He took great satisfaction in seeing her completely taken aback. He grinned wolfishly, tongue unconsciously licking his lips at the thought.  
  
Buffy gulped. "Will I like it?"  
  
Giles smiled reassuringly as he promised her she would. "Only we can't go too early. It only starts after eleven. So this will be late."  
  
"Fine with me, I guess. Is this one of those black magic places you used to go to?" she asked, looking uncertain.  
  
"Yes," he said shortly, "But as long as they know you're with me, you won't be bothered- too much. And I'm assuming you can handle your own problems just fine."  
  
"Oh, I can certainly do that," she agreed.  
  
Eleven thirty came and Buffy was pacing the living room, wondering whether her choice of clothes would be approved. Giles entered languidly, looking for all the world like there was no need to hurry.  
  
"Giles are you ready? A- a earring?" she asked.  
  
"Always had it. Just had to open the hole again," he said, indifferently tugging the throbbing earlobe. "A bit of ice, a hot needle; it went through like butter."  
  
"You didn't!" she gasped.  
  
He shot her an amused look as he shrugged into his jacket. His eyes trailed appreciatively over her. The black leather skirt with the slit almost to the top of her thigh was most alluring, as was the bare midriff under her black lace top.  
  
"Very nice," he commented appreciatively.  
  
She found herself blushing furiously. "I try," she dismissed, turning to bend down for her coat. A low whistle had her furiously straightening and grabbing at the hem of her skirt to pull it down. "Stop that," she snapped at Giles who was smiling innocently at her.  
  
"C'mon, luv. Let's go someplace more interestin'," he suggested leading her out and following her into the night. "By the way, can you fight in heels?"  
  
"Not really," she sighed, "Can you fight in those jeans? They look pretty tight to me."  
  
"They are, believe me," he assured her. "But for all that, they're bloody comfortable once you're used to 'em; feel like a second skin."  
  
They took the car, Giles driving for an hour before they reached their destination on the outskirts of the city. Buffy decided she didn't like the area, it was the perfect place for demons and vampires and other things that go bump in the night.  
  
But Giles didn't get out of the car immediately. He turned to her, trying to think of how to say what he had to say without sounding hopelessly sentimental. "Um, Buffy? Just before we go in, I wanted to tell you why I brought you here," he started awkwardly. "As you can imagine, it's not really the sort of place I'd take you or Willow or Xander, were the other two here. But I wanted to, today."  
  
Buffy smoothed her skirt nervously, biting her lip.  
  
"I was thinking about what you said this morning, and you're right!"  
  
"Huh? What'd I say, and since when was I right?" Buffy squeaked.  
  
"When you reminded me that there was no more hellmouth and that we were free. You're right: we are free, relatively speaking. And while you were waiting to see that bloody panther in the living room, well I was in my bedroom doing some thinking."  
  
"If you remember rightly, when you first got to Sunnydale, all you wanted was a normal life- a husband, children, a house in the suburbs with a decent job. What you got was a calling that has robbed you quite a few times of your life. And redundant as I am as your Watcher- no, don't deny it; it's true- I think I can still teach you something more."  
  
"I'm listening," she said, suspiciously keeping her distance.  
  
"Do you know how much fun it is to lose control?" he asked unexpectedly. "I mean just to- to go with the moment? As Ripper, I experienced that. I still go back to it a few times a year. But you- you don't have any release. So, without sounding too abstract, I was hoping you would let me teach you how to walk on the wild side for a night."  
  
She was taken aback. And she was so relieved she threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek with a resounding smack.  
  
Giles almost fell over in surprise. "What the hell?" he managed. "Buffy, I'm just giving you the night off, not saving your life!"  
  
"C'mon, Watcher, let's go party," she laughed, bouncing out of the car and stretching luxuriously under the stars. She heard a sound and immediately went into fighting stance.  
  
"Rule number one," Giles said in amusement from his seat on the car bonnet, "No fighting unless someone challenges you. Rule number two, the people here handle themselves; do not interfere. Rule number three, feel free to show off."  
  
Buffy looked at him in confusion. "Show off? Like how?"  
  
"Like strutting. You're a pretty girl; how do you make an entrance?" Giles pointed out, "Make people want to watch you. You're graceful; flow when you walk. You have a beautiful smile; bestow it on those who please you."  
  
"You mean, play being Queen Cordelia?" Buffy grinned.  
  
"**Exactly**!" Giles laughed back, "Come on, you don't need my help. I'm only an old man after all."  
  
Walking into the club with her Watcher was like entering a new world. The music seemed to drum into her head and dance through her veins. Sure it was old-fashioned rock, but there was something to be said for the seventies after all.  
  
"Ripper," someone greeted quietly, gliding on huge spider-like legs to standing front of the two. "It's been a long time."  
  
"Far too bloody long, Greg," Ripper agreed. "This is Buffy."  
  
"The Slayer?" the demon gasped, backing a few paces. "Ripper, you *crazy*, mate? You don't bring the Slayer here!"  
  
"Haven't," Giles said succinctly, "Brought a girl here. She's not on the hunt, Greg. Don't get your knickers in a twist, yeah? Calm down."  
  
The demon looked harsh faced at him for moment and then relaxed. "Your blood if you lie, Watcher; and hers! Want a fag?"  
  
"Depends what he looks like," Giles smirked.  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes. The demon looked at her and unbent a bit. "Nice to meet you, Sla- Buffy. I see Ripper hasn't told you his tastes?"  
  
"Yeah well, Giles' sex life is not my concern, is it?" she said disinterestedly.  
  
The demon chuckled. "Right you are then, darlin'. Want a smoke?"  
  
She shuddered as Giles offered her the packet. He shrugged and tapped the end of his, lighting it without a word. "Ta," he grinned, leading her off.  
  
"Giles- I mean Ripper- where are we going?" Buffy yelled over the music.  
  
"Well, I need to find a mate. Hold on," and he stood still and closed his eyes, concentrating, "Over there."  
  
The man sitting sedately in a corner with his face in shadows was not in the least surprised when Giles sat down next to him. Buffy did, however, choke when the man straddled Giles' lap and pulled his head in for a long drawn out kiss. "Well, Ethan," Giles said jovially, "How're you doing?"  
  
"Darn well, actually, luv. I see you've brought the Slayer here," Ethan said, holding out one delicate hand to Buffy from his seat. She shook it in a daze.  
  
"Was this what that guy meant by 'your tastes'?" she demanded querulously. "Cause if it is: why the hell didn't you tell me?"  
  
Ethan threw back his head and laughed. "Oh my dear girl, weren't Ripper and I obvious enough all those times you saw us together? I'm sure that darling boy of yours, Xander, saw through us immediately. I'm surprised he didn't say something. Bats for both teams, does our Watcher."  
  
Buffy shook her head. "I need a drink if I have to put up with you."  
  
"Try the Green Slug. It's liquid dynamite," Ethan called, turning back to encounter the affection on Ripper's face. "Ah, I see Ripper's here," he remarked.  
  
"Why not Rupert Giles, poncy old git though he is?" Giles grinned.  
  
Ethan tapped the sweeping collarbone of the other man. "Be reasonable, luv. When has Rupert Giles ever looked affectionately at me?"  
  
Giles gave him a lopsided smile. "I suppose I should be worried. You of all people know that Ripper and Giles are one and the same. But if it pleases you, dearest."  
  
"Let's go find your little friend before she gets into a fight. Which I am assuming, is not what you want?" Ethan reminded him, pulling him up and dragging him away.  
  
The evening passed quickly. Ethan and Ripper held court in their corner, Buffy playing the Queen of the loyal subjects around them once she had finished dancing her feet off. For the first time she tasted the kind of power that had addicted Giles in his youth. "No wonder you left being a Watcher," she commented, leaning into his shoulder to yell in his ear.  
  
He shrugged, grinning. "Well, it wasn't all about summoning demons you know. This place always gives me a buzz."  
  
Buffy laughed. "Watcher mine, you're a man of many talents." Then her gaze zoned to narrow in on a scaly looking demon (pink, of all colors), terrorizing a human. Or what she assumed was a human. "Hey, Giles! Know either of those two?"  
  
Giles looked up from carefully stroking a soft thatch of hair at his knee and slid his eyes in the indicated direction. He squinted, pulling on the cigarette dangling in his mouth. Then his gaze cleared. "Yeah. That's a friend of mine. Excuse me a minute, luv."  
  
Buffy looked at Ethan who was busy exchanging the secrets of some kind of hex with a man with pointed ears. If she didn't know better, she'd say he was an elf. "Ethan," she called, interrupted the two.  
  
The mystic's eyes glared malevolently before realizing who it was. She flipped her head in Giles' direction. The smile vanished. "C'mon, luv. Ripper's liable to go off tonight."  
  
"Leave, human; this is none of your business," the pink scaly demon was laughing.  
  
Giles was at least a good four inches shorter than the thing but a quick glance at the little man at his side settled the deal. "No," he clearly.  
  
The demon snarled and lunged just as Ethan caught up and dragged Ripper back from those clawed hands. "Are you fucking *insane*?" the Son of Chaos growled, holding tight when Giles tried futilely to shake him off. "That thing will break your bloody back!"  
  
"Maybe you should listen to your friend, mortal," the demon growled.  
  
"Giles, just leave," Buffy suggested. If Ethan Rayne said this was a bad thing, it was good enough for her. "It's not worth it. And remember those rules you gave me outside? No fighting and no interfering?"  
  
The little human let out a sudden wail, little black goatee trembling as he stuttered. "D-Don't leave m-m-me like this! He'll kill me!"  
  
"Why does he want you anyway, Nigel?" Ethan asked warily.  
  
The demon roared. "The little bastard was supposed to work for a friend. He didn't get the job done, so I've come to make sure he does it or dies."  
  
Ethan shook his head disapprovingly. "He's an artist. You do not kill those; they're rare enough as it bloody is. He's the best cat burglar around. Threaten to break his hands or something; don't *kill* him!"  
  
Buffy shook her head. "Guys, this isn't any of our business, is it?"  
  
"Oh, but I think I'm about to make it mine," Ripper grinned.  
  
The being on the spider-like legs wafted up again. "Ripper, is this a challenge?" he asked discreetly.  
  
Everyone around them turned to watch the scene, Buffy noticing the avidly bloodthirsty expressions on some of the faces. The viewers held their breathes. Buffy saw Ethan shoot an involuntary look of worry at the opponent and whisper something to Giles. Giles watched the pink demon flex his arms maliciously and lick at his lips with a surprisingly barbed tongue. "Yeah," he grinned, "It's on!"  
  
"You know the rules, Ripper," Greg was saying. The crowd was forming a ring around the pair as he outlined them. "You will not step outside the circle. No one may help these two. There will be no weapons except what you have right now-"  
  
"I know all this crap, Greg," Giles growled, licking his lips, glittering green eyes fixed hypnotically on his opponent.  
  
Buffy grabbed Ethan's arm. "What's happening?" she begged, "Why all the rules?"  
  
"My dear, there *aren't* any rules," Ethan said firmly, hardly looking at her. He shook her off and pulled imperatively at Giles' sleeve. Giles turned to look at him, eyes flickering towards Buffy for a brief reassuring glance. "Ripper, you do not make it out of that circle with your sodding life, I will personally bring you back and kill you myself," Ethan warned, before reeling him in for a hard kiss.  
  
Giles kissed back hungrily, teeth emerging for an instant to bite Ethan's lip. He licked the blood off hungrily, feeling the power surge with the coppery tang in his mouth. "You take care of Buffy," he stated, knowing Ethan would do so.  
  
Buffy watched him turn his back on both of them. Then Ethan twined an arm around her waist and she almost shoved him away in disgust when the room spun. Perceptions warped and flowed and she felt disoriented. When she came back to her senses, she was standing in the same spot but watching a slightly different scene. The room was longer, bigger, and there was a wide sunken circle in the middle. Giles was slouching impassively just inside, facing the demon towering over him in the middle.  
  
"Ethan, what happens if he loses?" she asked, slapping a tentacle away from trying to reach under her skirt.  
  
The mystic shrugged. "Whatever happens happens. Rupert's killed and won in this ring before. He's a smart fighter; he'll survive."  
  
She focused on the composed face next to hers. "You called him Rupert," she accused.  
  
He glanced at her, eyes crinkling in a smile. "I never really call him Ripper unless I want to annoy him."  
  
Both refocused on the man in the ring. Giles was circling the demon in the center, senses seemingly completely attuned to the fight. Buffy noticed a sadistic smile on his face as he slipped forward, connected with the demon's stomach and danced away again. Ethan let out a breath that she could bet he didn't even know he was holding. The crowd was placing bets on the outcome of the battle, raucous encouragement yelled out in numerous languages and accents. She slapped the tentacle away for the third time, snarling at the demon behind her.  
  
Turning back she watched the two trade punches, Giles reeling before the power of the bigger demon. She watched, her heart in her mouth, as he jumped back and reassessed the situation. She observed her Watcher plan his strategy, just like he'd shown her.  
  
Ethan clicked his tongue. "He'll never win like that," he muttered distractedly, "He needs to act on instinct! He can't plan this; that thing can see where he's going."  
  
"Well maybe tell him that or something," Buffy suggested, "Can't you do that mind telepathy thing? Willow can! Couldn't you let him know somehow?"  
  
Ethan sighed and shook his head. "The circle prevents magic. If Giles is discovered using magic, he forfeits everything and the other guy wins. That would be fatal in this case."  
  
Giles looked over the demon. Spoiling as he had been for this fight, for some reason he couldn't get himself into it. It was as if he was moving too slow or as if the demon could read his mind. But he knew this species just didn't have that kind of telecommunicative power. He racked his brains to think of something.  
  
The demon lunged forward and he only just got away in time, hearing his shirt rip. The material came away shredded and he heard the crowd roar though the sharp sting of three parallel scratches. He shook his head and tried to keep the demon on the offensive, looking for an opening as he ducked and wove through the swinging hits.  
  
He saw it and dived, leg smashing through to kick the demon's leg out from under him and then repeated vicious kicks to the ribs. He backed off when the demon came up spitting, barbed tongue licking away a drop of clear liquid oozing from a cut lip.  
  
"You'll die here, human," the demon snarled, "And you'll die at my hands."  
  
"Funny," Giles taunted, "I don't really think so seeing as how I'm cutting those claws off as a souvenir."  
  
The demon almost paled, eyes crackling. "Don't you want to know who you're fighting, Watcher? Krail, then! Ah, I see you know of me and mine. And guess what I'm planning to do to you now?"  
  
"Kill me, I assume," Giles shrugged. He heard the crowd roar and he raised his voice. "Well come on, then! Move that fat arse and let's see what you're fucking capable of!"  
  
The cheering crowd was overwhelming but Buffy noticed that most people bet against the arrogant human sneering in the ring, confident in the abilities of Krail. "Giles," she yelled, fighting her way to the front, "Kill this guy already!"  
  
The tentacles were back, slithering over her bottom and she lost her temper. "Fuck off, you slimy bastard, before I break your neck," she screamed, whirling on the demon behind.  
  
"Is this another challenge?" Greg asked in wonder.  
  
"Yeah, unless this prick apologizes for being such a sleazebag," she shot out.  
  
The demon looked at her and sneered. "Never, bitch! I'll drink your blood before this night is over."  
  
Giles suddenly found the world spin and when he came to again, Buffy was standing next to him. "B- Buffy? Whatever are you doing here?" he gasped, before taking in another new appearance. "Good lord, woman! What have you challenged?"  
  
"That guy was creeping me out," she complained, "and I was pissed off so I told him to beat it and he wouldn't apologize so- well, I guess I challenged him."  
  
Ethan looked at the two in the ring, shook his head and sighed. "The things I do," he groaned, looking around him. He walked up to a mage, one he figured he could handle, and tapped him on the shoulder. The mage turned to look at him and he punched him on the nose. "You're challenged, ducks," he smirked.  
  
Giles didn't know whether to laugh or cry when Ethan appeared on his other side. He rubbed his eyes, wincing as fingers glanced over a bruised cheekbone and a split lip. "You two, we will talk about this when we get home. Ethan, who have you got?"  
  
"The mage," Rayne yawned. "I can burn him to a crisp anytime I like."  
  
"Oh good!" Giles said sarcastically, "Because I'm guessing Numento is really going to let you do that."  
  
A quick look and Ethan groaned, "He's gotten better, has he? Well, never mind. I'll deal."  
  
"Buffy, who do you have?" Giles asked, wary eye on both demons advancing.  
  
"The tentacled dude," she pointed out. She watched him laugh. "You know him?"  
  
"Yeah," he grinned, "Here! Cut the sodding tentacles off with this!" he handed her a sheathed dagger he drew from his pocket. "Me? I'll use a stake."  
  
"Come on, you cowards," the tentacled demon yelled, laughing hoarsely at the tiny blonde he was facing, "Three helpless humans against us? We will paint this ring with your blood."  
  
"Blood with a circle of fire? Is this guy for real?" Buffy grimaced, "I mean, how gothic can you get?"  
  
Ethan smirked, blue flame crackling over his right hand. "Shall we show them just how helpless we are, my dears? I think they need reminding never to mess with a Watcher, a Slayer and a Chaos Mage."  
  
Three deliciously malicious faces advanced slowly to their opponents. Flame flickering, blood pounding, magic swirling in the charged air- the crowd went wild, voices cheering the demons to victory. A break in the line-up and the battle was on.  
  
Later that night the three collapsed in various spots in the living room and chuckled weakly around a bottle of whiskey. Buffy had draped herself over the sofa, cuts and bruises already less sore as Slayer healing kicked in.  
  
Ethan reclined in a leather armchair on the other side of the room, lounging bonelessly as only Ethan Rayne could do. He looked much the worse for wear, even if only a little bruised. The whiskey was going a far way to reviving his flagging energy.  
  
Giles was sprawled on the floor, arms folded under his head and eyes fixed on the ceiling. He was in current possession of the bottle, having stolen it from Buffy, and was engaged in forgetting the pain of a massive shiner with alcohol.  
  
"Giles, put that bottle down," Buffy drowsily demanded, "You promised!"  
  
"Shut up, Buffy," he sighed, just as drowsily, "How's your ankle?"  
  
"I'll survive," she yawned, "God, I can't believe that pinhead made me break a heel! And I liked those shoes! But it was fun using it to rip his skull apart."  
  
"A singularly bloodthirsty enjoyment," Ethan commented, opening one eye, "Rupert, however do you manage such a harridan?" Buffy giggled and tossed a pillow at him, which he caught with a slender hand and a quick wrist.  
  
Giles marveled at the sudden change in attitude. "I assume you're not going to beat him up and throw him out for that?" he asked, turning his head to look up at her.  
  
Buffy stuck her tongue out at him and yelped as Ethan threw the cushion back. "Fair's fair, pet," Ethan smirked.  
  
"Have I told you how much I despise you?" she asked sleepily, grinning at him.  
  
"Quite frequently," he agreed, "Though you sound much less convinced of the matter somehow."  
  
"Well, you did deliberately come to rescue us," the Slayer pointed out, "I guess I can put up with you for now. But no kissing Giles in my presence!"  
  
"Jealous, luv?" Ethan teased, giving his upper lip a quick cat-lick. Buffy shuddered.  
  
"Ethan, I showed her the tattoo," Giles said suddenly, "She wants 'The Siren's Song' done on her back. Think you can do it?"  
  
"Once I've rested, yes," Ethan considered, "But are you sure? That was Deirdre's, after all. It's almost inviting bad karma."  
  
"Karma?" Buffy frowned.  
  
"Fate," Giles supplied, "And yes, Ethan, you're right. I'd forgotten that! No wonder it looked familiar."  
  
"Can't I get it anyway?" she pouted.  
  
Giles looked undecidedly at Ethan who shook his head and explained, "The tattoos are special. They are constructed from your essence, from your personality. But they can be tainted by what has gone before. Deirdre died a tragic death; giving you her symbol would be tempting fortune. It would not be a good idea."  
  
"What do you suggest?" Giles groaned, moving his aching body against the carpet.  
  
"Why not Pegasus?" Ethan suggested, "It's similar to our own so she shares a bond with you. And it would be rather appropriate for this flighty creature of both the earth and the ethereal."  
  
"Wow," Buffy said, impressed, "I'm starting to think you don't hate me."  
  
"I've never underestimated you, my dear," Ethan acknowledged, smiling at Giles as the latter shot him a suspicious look.  
  
"But that doesn't mean you like me," she pointed out, frowning.  
  
"I never said I did," he glinted, throwing himself off the couch as an avalanche of cushions was sent flying at him. "Ripper, do something protective, damn it!"  
  
"Both of you need your heads examined," Giles grumbled, rolling away. Then a cushion hit him smack in the face and he gasped and blinked furiously for a few moments, staring in shock at Buffy.  
  
"Oops," she apologized.  
  
Green eyes and brown made a pact and launched themselves at her, tumbling her off the couch and whacking her with pillows as she screamed and fought back.  
  
They collapsed on the floor, laughing, feeling as young as they'd ever wanted to feel. "Oh Gods, I feel about twenty again," Ethan gasped, wiping away tears.  
  
"Me too," Giles joined in, holding his bruised ribs, "It's just like old times!"  
  
"And it's not like I've done that in a while," a blissfully tired Slayer moaned, settling her head on her Watcher's chest.  
  
Giles absently stroked the bleached hair with one hand as the other scratched rhythmically at Ethan's back, producing a contented purring that started off three fits of giggles again.  
  
"What the hell am I doing here?" Ethan grumbled, "One night out with you, Rupert, and you've made me one of your poncy sort!"  
  
"Like hell," Giles snorted, "I can hear you thinking up some nefarious scheme to delude poor innocents and very likely me and Buffy as soon as you're back up to full strength."  
  
Ethan shrugged, wriggling back to lie against Giles, hand stroking the arm flung over his waist. "Slayer asleep?"  
  
Giles peeped down. "Yes. She's tired. Do you think it was a good idea, Ethan? Me taking her there?"  
  
Ethan nodded. "You might have just lengthened her life span by letting her have one night off, luv. She was getting too bloody old for her age. Having a destiny or a gift should be fun- look at me!"  
  
"Becoming another you was not quite what I had in mind, Ethan," Giles grinned at his back, tickling a shoulder blade, "But you're probably right anyway." 


End file.
